The One Worth Saving
by Magnolia Jude
Summary: Nikita and Michael fight after she severs his hand to save his life. Nikita runs off on her own to get revenge on Amanda for all the pain she and Michael have gone through. Nikita runs into trouble by herself and it is up to Michael and the others to save her and take down Amanda. Rated T but may be more violence later so maybe M, I'm not sure sorry! First fanfic. Mikita whump
1. Chapter 1

First Fanfic so please be gentle, but I'd love to hear any comments! I'll try to update chapters often :)

*disclaimer, I love Nikita but sadly I don't own it :(no characters are mine

"She saved your life! Don't you get it Michael, she saved you!" Owen shouted furiously at the broken man in front of him.

Michael and Nikita had been fighting again. Since his recovery from surgery about three weeks ago, Michael had been biting at Nikita's throat almost constantly. The beautiful assassin took the assault stoically, never raising her voice or defending herself. This last fight had been too much for her though. Michael had woken up with a phantom pain in his missing right hand. He groaned in pain as Nikita tried to comfort him. Michael angrily, suddenly struck out with his left hand and smacked her across the face. Her deep, brown eyes searched his face, confused. They had sparred and fought many times over the past years, but Michael had never hit her so forcefully, so angrily, before. It seemed to Nikita, that this time, he really meant to hurt her.

Nikita ran out of their room in Division and hadn't been seen since. Owen and Alex wandered the labyrinthine halls looking for her but the petite Asian was nowhere to be found.

"I'm not talking to him," insisted Alex, looking like a proper Russian heiress in her haute couture jacket and skirt.

"I'd like to keep my head attached to my neck! I'm not going into that hothead's room," replied Owen, "He'll be gentle to you, he likes you."

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Suggested Alex.

"What are we, twelve?" Owen joked, but held his fist out anyway. "Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot… damnit, best two out of three?" Alex shook her head and stood back, gesturing for the loser to head into Michael's room.

Owen carefully treaded into the stark, bright room. Michael, unshaven and rumpled, sat on the bed staring at the wall.

"Hey man," Owen said, making sure not to say or do anything to set the volatile Michael off. Michael swung around and Owen saw tears glistening in his red-rimmed eyes. Owen shifted back and forth slightly. Michael's mean glare followed the uncomfortable man. "I don't know what went on here earlier, but Alex and I have been looking for Nikita, we think she might have found where Amanda is hiding out. She called us in earlier to talk about it, but we can't seem to find her anywhere. Even Birkoff couldn't find her on the cameras. She's been MIA since this morning it seems."

Michael sat silently for a full minute before spitting out, "You think I know where she is?"

"Well I thought maybe she told you if she was going out or when she'd be back. Could you maybe call her and find her?" Owen calmly suggested, already eying the exit ready to make his escape.

"Listen, I know you've all been talking about crazy, angry Michael, but stop treating me like I'm some hostile animal. No I do not know where Nikita is, and I'm not calling her. She's a big girl, she'll turn up later. And frankly I don't care where the bitch is!" Michael yelled, standing up to his full six foot once inch height.

"She saved your life! Don't you get it Michael, she saved you?" Owen yelled back before stalking out of the room. The gray, metal door slammed firmly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

New Chapter! This one's a little longer, hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the favorites, follows and reviews! Next update might take a little longer, sorry, blame my exams!

Managua. Nikita had traced Amanda back to the corrupt capital of the large Central American country, Nicaragua. Amanda was smart, she hadn't left a paper trail or used a cell phone, but Nikita had tracked bullet and weapons shipments for three weeks. Finally she uncovered a pattern of ProLoad bullets getting shipped to a Russian-owned bar in Managua. After a little digging, Nikita discovered that the bar was owned and operated by a Gogol front company.

"Gotcha!" Nikita had exclaimed as she slammed her fist down against the metal computer desk when she had pinpointed Amanda's location. She had sent out a quick text to Owen and Alex before going to check on Michael.

Now she was alone at Sandino International Airport having just landed in Managua. It had been a long time since she had flown commercial. She definitely preferred Division's jets to the cramped quarters of the economy class. She passed her fake passport to the Hispanic guard at the gate. Nicole Peterson, it read.

Nikita gazed out the big glass windows outside the terminal. She ran through her to-do list in her head; find a gun, maybe a knife too, acquire a car, scout Amanda's hideout, and then infiltrate and kill the sociopath.

"Miss. Miss!" Insisted the guard handing Nikita back her stamped passport.

"Oh, sorry," she responded when she snapped out of her reverie. She felt naked without Michael by her side and Birkhoff in her ear. She shook off the feeling and stalked out of the airport.

Nikita carried a small black duffel bag containing her heavy-duty, state-of-the-art laptop and a change of clothes. She placed the bag on the cracked pavement next to the front wheel of a black SUV parked on a side street by the airport. Nikita usually preferred small cars that handled well but Nikita could tell this SUV was definitely part of the arsenal of the local faction of the Norte del Valle cartel. She figured the drug-dealing owner must be inside the nearby warehouse and he wouldn't mind if she borrowed his truck for awhile.

She ducked her head as she smashed the driver side window with her elbow. The windshield was bulletproof and reinforced but this side window splintered as soon as her elbow made contact. She unlocked the door and slipped inside. The seat was set way back from the wheel so Nikita first slid it forward to accommodate her short stature. Her fingers danced over the wires beneath the wheel as if they were local hands weaving cloth. In less than three minutes the engine roared to life. Nikita sped away from the curb towards the busy main road of Managua. An angry man sprinted from the warehouse shouting Spanish profanity. He unloaded a clip from his 9mm into the road behind her. She swerved to avoid the flying bullets as she merged on to the traffic of Pista Pedro Joaquin Chamorro, the main road of Nicaragua where the airport was located.

"I guessed he does mind that I borrowed his ride," Nikita mused to herself.

After making a series of twisting turns, Nikita was sure she hadn't been followed. She was relieved that no one was on her tale but at that moment she realized how alone she was, wandering the streets of Managua without her team.

Nikita pulled into the parking lot of a deserted convenience store. She whipped out her computer and it booted up quickly. A red dot blinked on the screen, signifying Amanda's location. Amanda was holed up above a run-down bar a mile outside the city. With her laptop sitting in the passenger seat, Nikita sped off in the direction of the red dot.

The windows in the front of Casa Rusa were dark and empty. The bar would open later that night when a crowd of dirty day-laborers would stumble in to waste the day's pay poisoning their livers. The apartment upstairs was obviously inhabited. The lone upstairs window glowed from inside and Nikita counted two silhouettes moving around the flat.

Nikita watched the window carefully, counting shadows. Infrared binoculars would have made this task much easier, but Nikita had to leave them back in the shelves at Division. It would have been impossible to get those past security, especially with all the recent improvements by the TSA.

"God, I hate flying commercial," moaned Nikita, lamenting her lack of tools and weapons. A spark of regret flashed through her mind and she almost wished she hadn't gone out on this vigilante mission by herself. "I've got to do this by myself. Michael insists on fighting his demons without my help. Well, Amanda is my demon, and I've got to finish her on my own," Nikita said aloud to herself.

Her dark brown eyes shifted from the window and she evaluated the gear she had with her. She had found a MAC-10 under the passenger seat but no knife and only two magazines filled with bullets. Originally Nikita had pictured dramatically slicing Amanda's jugular and watching as her crimson blood came pouring out. "A shot to the head will have to suffice," Nikita whispered as she loaded and unloaded the machine pistol making sure everything was in order. _A Kevlar vest would have been nice too_, Nikita thought, as she focused her eyes back on the lone window.

Nikita watched from her somewhat concealed position a block away for three hours. She felt satisfied that she had learned all she could about Amanda's hideout. She had counted three Gogol guards patrolling the apartment. Twice, Amanda's perfectly groomed silhouette appeared in the window frame. Nikita shuddered each time as bile climbed up the back of her throat. She couldn't wait to put a round through Amanda's make-up covered face.

Nikita drove around the block to take a look at the rear of the building. She couldn't see much of the bar through the neighboring yards but she could see a back door on the ground level and a balcony to the apartment.

It was about six o'clock and the warm Nicaraguan sun was setting in the western sky. Nikita's stomach grumbled like a petulant child. A cozy family restaurant sat on the corner of two streets a few blocks away. Nikita decided to appease her stomach and grab some dinner. She hoped they had some vegetarian options because the plane's vegetarian meal reminded her of the prison food that she once forced down her throat.

The corner booth offered some concealment but also sightlines to the three entrances and exits. Nikita slid into the cheap, red pleather booth and ordered a grilled vegetable salad. Her mind went in to mission mode. She ran through various scenarios and entertained a few tactical strategies while simultaneously watching her surroundings. It was unnerving to know that there was no one watching her six.

By the time she finished her delicious salad, Nikita had a plan. She parked outside a church a few miles away to wait until the sun sank well-passed the horizon. In a few hours Nikita would begin her assault on Amanda's apartment, using the noise of the dive bar to cover her infiltration. Soon, Nikita would watch the life drain from Amanda's sickening face and know that she had taken another demon off the face of the earth.

"Nothing! Nothing, I can't find anything! Nikita said she tracked Amanda but I can't find any clue about her location," Alex exclaimed. She was frustrated and felt like she was letting her mentor down. By this point they had guessed that Nikita had gone after Amanda so Alex, Owen and Birkhoff were trying to find the clue Nikita had uncovered. They were having no luck locating Amanda, though.

"We'll find her, and then help Nikita wipe her out," Owen assured Alex.

"I can't believe she would just go off like that," Alex said close to tears.

"It's Nikita, she thinks she can save the planet on her own," Owen replied quietly.

"Why are you looking for Amanda, follow Nikita's trail," A deep voice came from behind the group.

"Michael!" Alex squealed. It was the first time Michael had left the room since his surgery. He was wearing real clothes for the first time in weeks. Alex also noticed the high-tech prosthetic hand that medical had supplied him with. It looked frightening and unnatural.

"She had to fly commercial, no Division jets are missing. I noticed a passport with the alias Nicole Peterson is missing from her stash. Search that," Michael continued, ignoring Alex.

Birkhoff began typing furiously on his keyboard. "You know all her aliases and passports? She must have a hundred!" Owen asked, but then wished he hadn't opened his mouth. Everyone was still nervous to address Michael when he was acting so hostile.

"She only has 46, of course I noticed one was missing, she's my fiancé," Michael paused, "Damn it, she's my fiancé. I love her," He slammed his mechanical hand onto the table startling everyone and making Alex yelp. "What have I done? Nikita I'm so sorry." Tears began to drip down his cheeks. Michael was clearly hurting and regretted whatever had happened yesterday morning. Silently, Alex wrapped her arms around his muscular body. Michael allowed the hug, "Come on, let's just find her. I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"There you are Nikki!" Birkhoff yelled stepping back from his computer screen. Alex and Michael separated and turned to look at the plasma screen. Birkhoff displayed his screen, which showed a flight manifest bearing Nicole Peterson's name.

"Managua. That's in Panama or something right?" Owen asked reading the flight document.

"Nicaragua," Answered Michael, staring at an airport security image of Nikita exiting a plane in Sandino International Airport. Bags were sitting heavily under her tired eyes. Michael guessed that she hadn't gotten any sleep on the overnight flight.

"Looks like we're headed to Nicaragua, I'll tell Ryan," Birkhoff said as he left the room.

"And I'll call Sean," Alex added. "What?" She asked in response to the questioning looks she got from the men in the room, "We're going after Amanda, Sean will want to be a part of that, and we'll need all the hands we can get."

Michael and Owen were left alone in the gray, cement room.

"Look, Michael, I'm sorry about yesterday. Alex and I were just looking for Nikita and—"

"Owen, I was way out of line. I was a jerk. I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry, it's just that there's so much going on and since the incident everything's just been so… hard. I owe everyone a sincere apology. God, Nikita is out there on her own, she could be in trouble, and it's all my fault." Michael's voice started to crack as he held back the tears.

"Nobody blames you Mike, let's just get our girl home," Owen said, patting Michael on the back and guiding him out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay! Life went into crisis mode for a bit but I'm back now! Anyways, here's the new chapter!**

A thin sliver of moon shone almost directly above Nikita's head as she exited the SUV she had acquired earlier. She pulled her duffel bag from the back seat where she had thrown it. Night was darker here, no streetlights or apartment windows brightening the sky. Night was also louder, shouts, squawks and the distant report of guns sounding every now and then.

Nikita changed in the darkness behind the vehicle, which she had parked in an alleyway after finishing her dinner. She had switched her more comfortable travel clothes for tough black leggings that wouldn't rip and a long sleeve, black t-shirt. She pulled her sturdy black boots back on her feet and then pulled on her favorite leather jacket. The leather was supple, worn and flexible but would still protect her from some cuts and scrapes. She wished she had found a Kevlar vest to slide under the jacket, or at least a better weapon. The MAC 10 was one of the least accurate pistols on the market and Nikita didn't have enough bullets to waste on missed shots. Alone and under-armed, Nikita sped off into the night.

The team sat tensely in the comfortably designed cabin of the jet Ryan had prepared. It was an eight hour flight to Managua. They were flying under the pretense that they were a team of American lawyers meeting a high profile client. They're answer to any question would be "Our client prefers to protect his privacy." Owen sat in a cushy, white leather seat in the back of the plane checking and rechecking his gear. His mind was running miles a minute going over the situation and the plan, or rather lack of plan. Their current plan ended when they landed, they had no information on Nikita or Amanda's location beyond Managua. Sonya was furiously searching cameras and chatter in the area looking for any clues. Owen hoped she had found something and would call them when they landed because their phones didn't work while they were in the air.

Birkhoff and Ryan sat playing cards at a table behind Owen. They tried to work out their jitters through a game of War. Michael sat on a leather bench seat in the front of the cabin staring at the blank white wall. Owen could only imagine what was running through Michael's head but he figured it was best to give Michael space.

Alex was sitting on a couch-style seat built into the side of the cabin. She was "reading" a popular magazine, but had been staring at the same page, lost in thought, for the last twenty minutes.

"Hey," Sean said awkwardly as he moved to a spot beside her.

"Hey," Alex said curtly, not looking up from her page. Sean stayed there uncomfortable for a few minutes before he moved to the soft seat across from Owen. Sean closed his eyes hoping to get some sleep in the silent, tense cabin.

Nikita parked three blocks away and made sure to scrub the car clean of prints or any evidence of her presence. If things went perfectly she would return to the car and make a clean getaway in less than in hour. Of course, Nikita wasn't naïve enough to expect everything to run smoothly. She was sad to part with her clothes when she dumped her duffel bag and she promised herself to console herself with retail therapy on Division's dime when she got home.

Nikita walked the three blocks slowly, scanning the dark street for movement. When she was certain she was alone, her mind began to wander back to Michael and their fight. _No Nikita, _she told herself, _focus on the mission. Focus. _She went over her plan in her head, visualizing every minute. She was halfway through a third mental review when she reached the back of the dingy bar.

Nikita slunk along against the shadows of the fence. Every few feet, weak moonlight would shine through where a piece of the wooden fence had broken or rotted off. When she was level with the back corner of the bar, she counted to three and darted across the twenty yards of moonlit grass between the bar and the fence. She immediately pressed her back up against the rough concrete wall. She slid patiently along the wall, ducking under a kitchen window. Light shone from inside the kitchen and heavy European music was pounding from the front of the bar. Nikita could hear men shouting and women laughing.

Nikita hoped the three guards assigned to Amanda would be sleeping or downstairs partying. Gogol operatives were highly trained professionals though, so it was unlikely that all three members of the unit would be occupied. Most likely, two would be patrolling with the third sleeping until it was his turn to join the watch.

Nikita reached the broken fire escape that she had seen when she surveyed the back of the bar earlier. The lowest rung of the rusty ladder hung just over a yard over her head. She would have to jump and pull herself up onto the ladder but that was impossible while she was carrying the oversized pistol. She tucked the gun awkwardly into the front of her leggings and then zipped her jacket up over it. She prayed it wouldn't slip as she climbed.

She squatted and swung her arms down, building up momentum. She flung her lithe frame into the air and her fingers closed around the rung. The ladder swayed frighteningly and creaked loudly on rusted hinges. Nikita hung there as it settled hoping that no one had heard the metal's shriek.

Her arms tensed and her face twisted with effort as she pulled her chin up and then over the lowest rung. She climbed using just her hands until she had made it far enough to get her feet onto the ladder. She paused to let out a deep breath once she was safely on the ladder.

Nikita climbed the rest of the fire escape carefully and quietly. Her heart was racing but she knew that sudden movements would cause the hinges to give away her position, or worse, give out and let the ladder fall. At last Nikita reached the balcony of the metal fire escape. She ducked under the iron bars and crouched on the metal grate floor. She counted to herself, 3…2…1…go.

She smashed the window with the butt of the gun, which had thankfully stayed put during her climb. She tumbled through the shatter pane, slicing her arm and cheek against the glass shards that were still stuck in the frame. She didn't waste any time wiping the blood away. Instead, she immediately rolled to her feet and raised the MAC-10 in front of her. Nikita knew her entrance would certainly have alerted the guards and Amanda. She was ready for them to come bursting through the door in front of her, when she would pick them off one by one before finally reaching Amanda.

Five seconds had passed and no frantic, angry Gogol agents had burst through the door. After ten seconds, Nikita began to worry. She was just starting to run through possible scenarios when— "Hello Nikita," came a sultry voice from the darkness behind her.

Nikita spun on her heel to face Amanda's voice. Her finger was already closing on the trigger when a dark, strong hand knocked it out of her grip. The man the hand belonged to proceeded to knee her firmly in the chest. Air rushed from her lungs as a stunned Nikita struggled to analyze the situation. Her instincts kicked in as the man attempted a swing at her head. She ducked smoothly and chopped his neck with the outside of her hand. She raised her arm back for a second strike when another strong arm grabbed it. Her arm was twisted painfully behind her back. A third man joined in the fight, punching her hard in the stomach, followed by a swift uppercut to the chin. Nikita struggled with all her might but was swallowed up by the melee of kicks and punches from the men holding her. Finally they managed to wrestle her to the ground. A big black boot landed a few solid kicks to her abdomen when Amanda decided to call off her dogs.

"Enough," Amanda said calmly, "There will be more time for that later." Someone flicked on the lights and a murky yellow glow illuminated the small, barren room. Nikita was pinned on her stomach on a cold, concrete floor. Amanda stood over her, with seven more men behind her. The Gogol team consisted of ten strong, young agents, not the three Nikita had expected.

"Oh Nikita, did you really think I was holed up in this pitiful flat with just three guards. Ari would never leave me with so little protection. You see, I knew you'd find me eventually, and I used that to my advantage. Oh Nikita, so foolish of you to fly commercial, I knew you were here the moment you landed. You're too predictable Nikita. You always need to go off and save the world. All on your own. But you know who else is predictable? Your team. It's only a matter of time before they try to rescue you, and fall into this same trap," Amanda completed her diabolical monologue with a sinister smile.

Nikita glowered at the devil in front of her, "Amanda you'll—

But her thought was never finished. The black heel of a polished boot stamped down on the back of her head, sending her spinning into dark unconsciousness.

**Read and Review! Next chapter will be up soon! Again, sorry for the delay!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this! Hope you enjoy!**

Sonya sat behind her glowing computer screen biting her nails. She was worried about Nikita and the whole team, especially Birkhoff. Ryan had left her in charge of Division while they were away on what they hoped would be just a short mission.

A sudden "DING" caused Sonya to jump in her ergonomic computer chair. She had been sent a new email from a restricted address. This wasn't unusual as all the Division agents often used protected servers and email addresses. She hoped the message was from Birkhoff or Ryan.

"This is strange," Sonya whispered to herself, noting that there was no message, only attachments. Three pictures had been attached to the email. A loud gasp escaped Sonya's lips as she opened the first picture.

The picture was dark but it wasn't hard to make out the slim young women tied by her wrists and ankles to a metal chair. Her head lolled off the left and a few locks of hair covered half her face. Purpling bruises stood out against her pale skin on the side of her face that wasn't shrouded. Her lower lip was bleeding slightly. It was a ghastly image, and the eerie effect was emphasized by the grim lighting coming from a solitary window behind and to the right of the chair.

Sonya quickly opened the next two pictures. Though they were shot from different angles, all three depicted the same scene: a captured Nikita sitting in a dark room in front of a lone window. Sonya immediately forwarded the email to Ryan and sat back against her chair, trying not to panic.

"Oh shit," Ryan yelled. He almost never lost his cool, but the email shocked and scared him.

"What is it boss man?" Birkhoff asked curiously. Ryan turned the phone so Birkhoff and Michael could see it. Owen and Alex were still unloading the plane. The group had just landed in the private terminal at Sandino International Airport.

"What the… Is that…" Birkhoff stuttered.

"Nikita," Michael breathed, answering his question. "Let me see the phone Ryan."

Ryan wasn't sure Michael should see the pictures up close, but reluctantly, he handed over the phone. Everyone was silent as Michael examined the pictures. His expression hardened as he flipped from the first picture to the second, to the third. He handed the phone back to Ryan. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"What's going on over here?" Alex asked when she noticed the silence. Ryan passed her his phone without a word. Owen peeked over her shoulder and they looked at the email in front of them. Alex gasped when she saw the gruesome image.

"Birkhoff," Michael said, cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

" Yeah Mikey?" Birkhoff asked, willing to do anything for Nikita's fiancé.

"The window. Can you figure out her position from the view outside?"

"Not from here. But Sonya can try back at Ops. I'll text her."

Again the group waited in agonizing silence. Ten minutes later Birkhoff's smartphone vibrated.

"Sonya ran ground level satellite images through this program I designed back in '07. It takes the geographic and man-made features that it can see and then estimates what it can't make out from the image. It compares that to the stored satellite images—

"Birkhoff! Do we know where she is?" Alex exclaimed.

"Sorry! Best guess is second story in a concrete building on a side street off of the main road. The room is on the south side of the building. Sonya guesses it's this sleazy Russian bar on Calle Cantante. It's the kind of place where slime like Amanda and Ari would hide."

"Alright, let's go." Michael grabbed his bag and walked to the black Cadillac SUV Birkhoff had organized to be dropped off at the airport. The others looked around, unsure of what to do. Without a better answer, they hastily grabbed their bags and followed Michael to the truck. They had no plan. They weren't even sure what they would find when they got there, but they hoped they'd find Nikita still breathing and end the mission with Amanda in a body bag.

**Another update coming soon! I promise! ~MJ**


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